The Heat Between Me and You
by The 41st Maguanac
Summary: A repost of this story, this time without lemon and adhering to the new rules of Fanfiction.net. Trowa's rejection drives Quatre to drink and an impromptu performance of Prince's classic 'When Doves Cry'. Only Trowa's acceptance of his feelings will save
1. Chapter 1

The Heat Between Me and You 

By The 41st Maguanac aka Galatea

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story are my property and I make no money from this writing. Besides, I'm about to become a poor University student, and as a result have NO money.

Author's Note: Due to the recent changes on Fanfiction.net, I have unfortunately had to remove the lemon element from this story. This is the edited version for all those who complained about the NC-17 ratings on ffnet.

However, the story is available in all it's glory on my website:

http://www.angelfire.com/anime4/chez_galatea

***

The young barwoman eyed the blond-haired boy sitting at her bar with a vague interest. He had been sitting there for well over an hour now, silent in his reverie. His long blond bangs were splayed haphazardly across his forehead, a soft and uncharacteristic frown upon his brow. She had no idea what he was really thinking about, but every so often his mouth gently formed a few syllables, before returning to neutrality once more.

She idly polished the edge of a glass in her hand before tucking it back on to the shelf again. It was Friday night, and the bar was absolutely bustling with people. However, it appeared that the young man staring so fervently at his tequila shot was completely unaware as to the events going on around him, as though both blind and deaf to any universe but his own.

Lorna took a few paces towards him, and smiled down at him patiently. "Ya know, I'd be outta business if all my customers stared at their drinks instead of drinking them," she said, making an attempt at conversation.

The young man looked up at her through a pair of tired cerulean blue eyes, taking a few seconds for his mind to even register that he was being spoken to. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

Lorna leant against the bar. "My my, you look kinda young to be lookin' so blue there. What's your trouble?"

The young man shook his head. "I wouldn't want to bother you with my problems."

Pulling up a barstool, Lorna seated herself down next to him. "Listen kid, I'm a barmaid. I have to listen to problems all the time, whether I like it or not." The young man went back to staring at the faintly yellow liquid in his glass. "Not a big drinker, huh?"

He looked up at her again, slightly glazed eyes focussing lazily on her, as though too tired to even care. "No, I don't usually drink."

"C'mon kid, tell me what's on your mind," she encouraged as the blond-haired youth sniffed tentatively at his tequila.

"I'm in love with someone," he stated. He then went back into his silent reverie again, as though this was explanation enough.

"Oh really?" Lorna asked with a smile, "Well, that's good isn't it? I remember what it was like to be young and in love."

The pair of melancholy eyes locked on to hers, and she fell silent. "He doesn't love me," the youth explained. "But… I can't stop loving him…"

//Him?… Oh…// thought Lorna, wondering why she'd been at all surprised. She got all kinds of people in her bar. "How do you know he doesn't feel the same way?" she asked hopefully, "Have you asked?"

"It's a long story," was her only reply. The youth took a swig of his tequila, downing most of the glass. He pulled a face and winced. "Ugh…"

"You don't like it? I can get you something non-alcoholic if you like. I think we have some…"

Angry blue eyes glared up at her, and once again, the words she had been about to say were stolen from her mind. "Give me another," he demanded icily.

Despite her doubts, Lorna refilled the glass, and once again the youth downed the whole thing in one go. He pulled a face, but seemed more used to the sensation of burning in his throat the second time. "Don't you have anything stronger??" he asked angrily, "I don't even wanna remember who I am!!"

"Well, we have vodka, but I really don't think…"

The young blond man stood up and delved into the pocket of his light brown khakis for a moment, before banging his hand down on the bar top, depositing a bunch of bank notes in front of her. "Fill the fucking glass."

Lorna blinked, not expecting such coarse language from an otherwise well presented young man. She got out the bottle of vodka, and filled the glass halfway… before a glare caused her to finish filling it to the brim.

The youth gulped down half the shot and sighed. "So," Lorna started, "You wanna tell me what happened?"

***

"C'mon Trowa! Hurry up!"

Trowa rolled his eyes good naturedly as the exuberant blond ran a good few metres ahead of him and up the ridge. "Quatre! You don't even know where you're going!" he called with a laugh.

Quatre reached the top of the ridge and turned back to grin at his brown-haired companion. "I can hear it!!" he called back. He watched patiently as Trowa ascended the ridge to stand beside him, the warm autumn breeze gently pulling the golden leaves off the trees and showering them down on them both.

Trowa shifted the bag on his back, and gently pulled some of the overgrown foliage out of the way, taking Quatre's hand to lead him safely across the jumble of roots. He followed suit, until they were standing beneath the boughs of a large, old willow tree. He walked to one side of the tree, his hand resting on some of the hanging branches.

"Ready?" he asked, green eyes sparkling happily.

Quatre nodded silently, and walked over to Trowa's side, unable to suppress a grin of anticipation. Trowa pulled back the branches, allowing sight from beneath the tree, and out into the valley beneath.

A thousand times over, Quatre had speculated about how beautiful the Earth was, but nothing could have prepared him for the majesty of the sight before him now. After a soft patch of brightly green grass, the ground fell away beneath them in a sharp slope. A small river emerged from the valley wall beside them, gushing its contents down the steep descent and into the fathomless depths beneath them.

"It's so beautiful!" enthused Quatre, his blue eyes shining with happiness as he surveyed the patchwork of green beneath him. "Hey look! There's the circus tent!"

Sure enough, several miles away in the distance, the red and yellow stripes of the big top could be seen, nestled among the woodland treetops.

"Do you like it?" Trowa asked tentatively, his eyes resting on the small blond he had the fortune to be standing beside.

"Yes Trowa! Yes, it's, it's… wonderful. Thank you so much for letting me see this." Quatre turned back to his friend and ally, a smile gracing his face in an angelic and adorable way. Trowa couldn't help but smile back infectiously.

Trowa put his arm around Quatre's shoulders, enjoying the warmth of him through his thin shirt, wondering for a moment if Quatre might be getting too cold… but he didn't seem to notice, too enthralled by the vision of Eden surrounding them.

Quatre looked up into the kind pair of jade eyes gazing down at him, the love he felt for Trowa rising from somewhere deep inside him. It made his chest feel tight, a lump forming in his throat. He wondered for a moment if when he closed his eyes he might just float away on the breeze.

He had asked himself for so long whether Trowa could… maybe one day feel the same… but it seemed so impossible. Trowa had never shown him any signs other than friendship. There seemed something different about Trowa today… as though he had discovered an incredible secret which he didn't want anyone to know.

//And how I'd like to unlock those secrets…// Quatre thought to himself. //How much I'd like to know what goes on in your head, Trowa. I wish you'd let me in.//

Ever so slowly, as though entirely detached from his body, Quatre turned to face Trowa a little more, his other hand resting lightly on Trowa's chest, feeling his heart beat through his dark green shirt.

Trowa looked down fondly at the angel in his arms. He had never felt so close to anyone in his life. Not his sister, not Heero, or Duo. No one. At first he had felt so exposed by the idea of having someone to share his thoughts with, but the more he spoke to Quatre, the less exposed he felt, as though he was somehow filling in the cracks. When he was with Quatre, it seemed that every fault in the edifice of his hard outer shell was being filled with love, and he felt safe in this knowledge. Nothing could change the way he felt.

Nothing.

Trowa was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely noticed as Quatre slid his hand behind the jade-eyed pilot's neck, leaning his head back ever so slightly to brush a feathery kiss over Trowa's warm, soft lips. Trowa only even realised that he had closed his eyes when he suddenly opened them, and nearly fell over backwards, as though his hand had just been plunged into an electric socket.

"Tr-Trowa, are you all right?" a voice of kind concern was saying to him. He couldn't hear it though. He couldn't hear anything, except a voice screaming in his head.

Quatre felt his entire body fill with cold panic as he looked down at Trowa, who was leaning on one hand sitting on a log that had been behind him.

"What are you… what did you…?" Trowa stuttered violently, too scared to move, and yet too scared to stay where he was.

"Trowa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I…" Quatre felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes, and gulped to try and swallow the desperation. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't stand there, watching those kind green eyes almost glare back at him. //What have you done??// his mind was yelling at him, //What the Hell have you DONE?//

"You kissed me…" was all Trowa could say, his hand rising to touch his lips, "Why? Why did you DO that, Quatre??" his voice bordered on anger as he pulled himself to his feet, though he knew not where he was planning to go. He just had to get away.

"Please Trowa, don't hate me, I'm sorry," cried Quatre, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks, "I just… I felt… please don't hate me!" //Oh Allah, oh Allah, sweet Allah, please no…//

"WHY did you DO that?!" Trowa was practically yelling now, a cold fear spreading through him. He felt that the walls that he had spent so many years fixing and repairing were about to come down on him. He couldn't do that… he couldn't let that happen, he wasn't READY to let that happen. "What were you thinking? Why did…?" Trowa ran out of words, his head beginning to spin with the sudden intake of information.

"Trowa, please! I… I love you, I don't expect you to feel the same, I just… I wanted to…" //I wanted to tell you…//

"How could you just…? I mean, we were…" Trowa froze, his eyes growing cold and small. "I have to go now," he finally said. "I have to go." He felt Quatre grab for his wrist, the desperate pleas that followed, but he couldn't hear them anymore. He shook his wrist free violently, not running away, but strolling quickly. The anguished cries coming from behind him didn't slow him down. In fact, they almost speeded his flight, and it was not until he couldn't hear them any more that he liberally allowed himself the luxury of a few tears.

Quatre watched him go, calling his name, but not daring to follow. He didn't know if he could look into those eyes again. He couldn't take the pain of seeing that expression of disgust, that feeling of betrayal.

//I betrayed him,// was all he could think. //He was my friend, and I… I took advantage of that…// Unable to support his own weight any longer, he dropped to his knees on the soft ground, burying his face in his arms.

//It's all over. And it's all my fault.//

***

"That's really tough kid," replied Lorna sadly, watching as the young blond downed another shot of vodka, as she became increasingly concerned about how much he'd drunk already. "You oughta go easy on that stuff."

"S'okay," he replied, slurring slightly.

"Oh really? Say your name for me."

"My name… isz Quatre 'Berberberbera Win /hic/ Winner. Whassyours?"

Lorna shook her head despairingly. "Yup, you've definitely had enough of this stuff. I'd better put this bottle away before I'm calling the ambulance men to scrape you off my floor."

"Nonononononono," whined Quatre, hugging the bottle to him like a child and beginning to sob pathetically. "My alkyhole loves me. And I love my /hic/ alkyhole."

Lorna gently prized the bottle out of Quatre's embrace and tucked it under the counter. "You need some help getting home?"

"S'early yet," commented Quatre through his tears. "I wassa stay a liddle long /hic/ longer."

As much as she worried about the kid, Lorna didn't want to upset him when he was obviously so depressed, and she certainly didn't want to send him home if there was anything there he could use to hurt himself. "Fine," she replied, "Sit right there and just relax. The alcohol will make you sleepy soon enough. Hell, dance on the table if you want to, just try and keep your chin up, okay?"

Quatre nodded. "Maybe I… /hic/… maybe I will…" The smooth bar surface suddenly looked very inviting as a dance-floor, Quatre was thinking as he stood up, nearly falling over, and stepped up on to his stool…

***

"You heartless BASTARD!"

Duo stood staring at Trowa from behind his dark and angry cobalt eyes, an expression of anger and disgust on his usually happy features. "You're a heartless bastard, Trowa Barton," he repeated. "How could you just leave him like that?"

"I don't know," replied Trowa. His voice was almost completely muffled from having his head buried in his arms as he lay sprawled across his little bed in the circus caravan.

"For once I agree with the braided onna," commented Wufei, who was sitting quietly in the corner, his arms folded. "You should not have left him there when he was feeling vulnerable."

"Well, I didn't know what ELSE to do," said Trowa, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair irritably. "And if you don't MIND, I could do without all of you ganging up on me. I was surprised. I panicked."

Duo exhaled sharply, showing his obvious disapproval of the entire situation, and confirming Trowa's beliefs that he was no more fooling his associates than he was fooling himself.

"I mean, the guy bares his soul to you, tells you that he loves you, and what do you do? What do you do in the moment he's feeling the weakest?" Trowa covered his face with his hands as Duo talked, "I'll tell you what you do, you explain to him what you're feeling! What you DON'T do is make some petty excuse and get out of there faster than if your shoes have spontaneously combusted! And what's worse…"

"That'll do, Duo," came the calm voice of Heero Yuy, who had been listening to these goings on from behind his laptop.

"But Hee-chan!"

A glare from Heero was enough to coax his braided koi into silence. Trowa looked to him for support, "You agree with me, right Heero?"

"No," commented Heero, going back to his laptop, "But I don't think dwelling on what happened is in any way productive, and it must be noted that Quatre isn't here. It's getting late, and if he doesn't come back soon, someone is going to have to go and find him." Heero took this moment to glare meaningfully at Trowa.

Trowa sighed and nodded. "You're right, I should go. I've got to sort this out somehow." He stood up and headed straight out of the door. He had only travelled a few paces from the caravan before a hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to see that Duo had followed him out. He rolled his eyes, "What is it, Duo? Anymore words of encouragement?" he asked sarcastically.

Duo shook his head. "I still hold my opinion that you are a moron. However, you can't just go charging out into the night like this. Do you even know where you're going to look for him?"

Trowa frowned and looked out into the thick woodland around them. He had no idea where he was going. He had a mission objective, and that was to find Quatre. He didn't care where he had to go, or how long it took. "No… not really," he admitted.

"I thought as much," said Duo thoughtfully, "Well, it was just a thought I had, but if Quatre's depressed, there's only one place he's likely to have gone."

Trowa stared back at him blankly. "Where?"

"Well, if Quatre's anything like me…"

"God forbid."

"Hey! Do you want my help or not?"

Trowa begrudgingly nodded his head. Duo continued, "If Quatre's anything like me, he'll have gone to the only place where he can be guaranteed to forget his worries for a few hours. It's where I always go when Hee-chan and I have an argument."

"This being?"

"Where's the nearest bar?"

Trowa shook his head, "Quatre doesn't drink."

Duo rolled his eyes, "Trowa, these aren't usual circumstances! If he was really as upset as you've been telling us, I promise you that a bar is where he'll go… Unless you've got any better ideas?"

***

Lorna was far from happy about the idea of the attractive young man dancing on her bar. It wasn't like people hadn't done it before, but they were usually not as blind drunk as the blond she was faced with now. She was terrified that he'd fall off and hurt himself, but the moment she tried to help him down, not only did he shrug her off, but she received a chorus of 'boos' from the rest of the patrons.

"Let's see him dance!" yelled one of the robust men sitting at a table in the corner, holding his drink in the hair. No sooner had the words been spoken, half the bar occupants had leapt from their seats and were now standing beside the bar, looking up at the lithe figure standing atop it.

"Seems like you've got an audience," she murmured from behind him, her brow furrowed in worry.

"Stick a reccerd on then, and I'll /hic/ I'll dance. I like dancin'."

"Anything particular?" she asked him hesitantly, worried what the answer would be.

"I kinda like that pretty birdie song… by that royal guy… with the hair…" muttered Quatre incoherently. "Maybe I'm just like my mother…"

It took a few moments before Lorna could gather what he was on about, before she realised that he was describing 'When Doves Cry' by Prince. Against her own better judgement, she found the record and put it into the player. "Be careful," she said to him as the music kicked in… though she wasn't sure if he heard her.

_~ Dig if u will the picture_

_Of u and I engaged in a kiss ~_

"C'mon pretty boy! Dance!" called the onlookers excitedly, as Quatre swayed his hips in gentle synchronisation with the music. It didn't take him long to let the music seep into his veins, and soon he was aware of nothing but the driving rhythm…

***

Here it was, just as Duo had said it would be. It was a relatively small establishment in the nearest town. It hadn't taken him long to reach in the jeep, but as far as he was concerned, even 15 minutes was way too long.

//Quatre must have walked all the way here earlier…// he thought, his body almost aching with guilt. //I've got to find him, I've just GOT to.//

There was quite a rowdy show going on by the sounds of things, as he walked up to the door. He peered in through the misted glass to see that some poor drunk had climbed up on the bar and was now giving his all to one of his favourite songs. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Trowa pushed the doors open and walked into the thunderous noise of the crowded bar.

_~ The sweat of your body covers me_

_Can u my darling_

_Can u picture this? ~_

Trowa couldn't see very well over the sea of heads between himself and the bar. He did his best to push through the heaving crowd of people to find the bartender. According to Duo she was a pretty middle aged woman called Lorna. With a final push and some irritated shouts, Trowa arrived at the front of the mass of people, his eyes alighting on the woman he believed to be Lorna.

However, her eyes were locked upon the young man dancing on her bar top, to whom Trowa had heeded no attention.

Until now.

_~ Dream if u can a courtyard_

_An ocean of violets in bloom_

_Animals strike curious poses_

_They feel the heat_

The heat between me and u ~ 

Quatre was blissfully unaware of the presence of the object of his affection. The only thing he was aware of was the incredible burning sensation travelling up and down his every nerve. He thrived on it, letting it drive him to new levels of consciousness, far above the mass of people below him.

The heat was so intense that he began to sweat profusely beneath his light cotton shirt. His inhibitions far out of reach, he un-tucked the base of it, too keen to be rid of it to bother with the trifling buttons down the front. He loosened the collar and pulled the shirt off over his head, enjoying the friction it created with his already over-sensitised skin.

He dropped it to the floor behind the bar, running his hands across his naked chest, his eyes closed, his mind truly believing at times that these weren't his own hands. These were Trowa's hands that caressed him so tenderly, Trowa's hands that longed to cover every inch of his body…

_~ How can u just leave me standing_

Alone in a world that's so cold? 

_Maybe I'm just 2 demanding_

_Maybe I'm just like my father, 2 bold_

_Maybe you're just like my mother_

_She's never satisfied_

_Why do we scream at each other?_

_This is what it sounds like _

When doves cry ~ 

Trowa had never seen anything like this. This wasn't in any of the manuals he'd studied, this wasn't in his training. As a result, he had no idea how to deal with the sudden flood of desire which coursed throughout him.

He had just never even looked at Quatre this way before. He saw him as his friend, his ally. He saw him as that friendly face which was always smiling at him, even when he wanted to be alone. Now he was a beautiful, gyrating Adonis, his head slightly tilted back, lips slightly parted. There was nothing Trowa wanted more at that moment than to delve into that mouth and see what treasures he could discover.

From the moment Quatre gripped his shirt to the moment he dropped it to the floor, Trowa was almost certain that he didn't breathe. An uncomfortable heat and tightening in his groin caused him to pull himself on to a vacant bar stool, never for a split second taking his eyes off the ethereal vision before him.

//How can I be thinking this?// he thought, as images of a thousand passionate nights with Quatre danced through his rampant mind. He wanted those to be his own hands on that burning and slicked skin. He wanted to run his fingers through those blond locks, and God help him, he wanted to be the one making Quatre scream his surrender in the sweaty eternity of the night… //I want him,// was all he could think, //Oh God, I want him… I never even realised it, but there's no way I exist without him…//

_~ Touch if u will my stomach_

_Feel how it trembles inside_

_You've got the butterflies all tied up_

_Don't make me chase u_

_Even doves have pride ~_

Quatre danced as though balanced on the very wings of the birds he was singing about. He was singing? Yes, he was. The words were pouring softly from his mouth as he remembered the tune. He remembered why he loved this song so much. It described in so many ways how he felt about Trowa, how he longed to be soaked in his sweat as he thrust inside him. The number of times he had awoken himself in the night, so convinced that he could feel Trowa's breath on the back of his neck…

But it was never going to happen. He was never going to have him, and somehow he had to come to terms with this. The revelation of this was enough to send a couple of rogue tears rolling effortlessly down his cheeks. They felt almost cold against his already sweltering body, and he rested his hand on the waistband of his trousers, preparing to rid himself of these too. If he was to be vulnerable now, he didn't care. He wanted the whole world to see it. He wanted there to be a sign for him, like some freak-show at the circus: 'Come and see the fool who fell in love. Come and see him dance away his sorrows…'

_~ How can u just leave me standing_

_Alone in a world that's so cold? (A world that's so cold)_

_Maybe I'm just 2 demanding (Maybe, maybe I'm like my father)_

_Maybe I'm just like my father 2 bold (Ya know he's 2 bold)_

_Maybe you're just like my mother (Maybe you're just like my mother)_

_She's never satisfied (She's never, never satisfied)_

_Why do we scream at each other (Why do we scream, why)_

_This is what it sounds like ~_

//Quatre, I never knew. Please forgive me. I can't bear this…//

_~ When doves cry_

_When doves cry (Doves cry, doves cry)_

When doves cry (Doves cry, doves cry) ~ 

//I can't bear to see you this way… can't you see? Can you hear me at all? This is my fault. I loved you all the time, and I never knew. Can you forgive me? Can you love me after everything I've done? The number of times I've pushed you away…// Trowa watched as crystalline tears began to streak the cheeks of the fallen angel gyrating before him.

//Don't cry my angel. Don't cry for me, I don't deserve your tears.// Trowa felt as though his heart was being pulled agonisingly slowly from his chest. He watched the soft tears as they fell from the gently closed aquamarine eyes. //Hate me, kill me, scream at me, but don't cry for me…//

_~ Don't Cry (Don't Cry) ~_

//Don't cry. Please don't cry.//

The crowd seemed so ignorant of Quatre's sorrow that it made Trowa boil with anger. They laughed at him. Taunted him. He couldn't stand here and watch this. He couldn't let Quatre stand here and reveal to these disgusting men how vulnerable he was. He wouldn't allow it. He would protect him. His angel would not shed his wings for these barbarians.

_~ When Doves cry (Doves cry, doves cry, doves cry)_

_Don't cry_

Darling, don't cry ~ 

A man near the front of the crowd had the gall to reach out and try to grab Quatre's leg, and something inside Trowa met an edge. He was consumed with anger, and flung himself out of his seat, his fist delving into the midst of that smiling, mocking face.

There was blood on his hands, but he didn't care. The bright crimson liquid and angry faces of the crowd were not going to stop him now. He wrapped his arms around the waist of the injured dove on the bar top, and pulled him over his shoulder from where he stood. There were people yelling at him, and through it all he could see the face of the panicked barmaid as she yelled at him to leave his precious cargo where he stood… but he couldn't. He would not look back.

_~ Don't cry_

_Don't cry ~_

Somewhere through his drunken euphoria, Quatre could feel a pair of gentle arms as they clasped him about the waist, and soon everything had gone topsy-turvy. The ceiling was the floor, and the floor was the ceiling. A cacophony of sound and colours surrounded him on all sides, trying to make sense of itself through his blurred senses.

He wasn't afraid though. He felt peaceful and half asleep as though in a doze as he was whisked through the crowd of faceless people. He wondered for a moment if maybe an angel had come to take him away from the madness. Indeed, as he was pulled through the door, he felt as though he was floating up into the clouds, the oxygen gently fleeing his body and into the quiet night air.

_~ Don't, don't cry ~_

"Don't you dare leave me, Quatre, don't even think it," said Trowa as he walked through the lightly frosted grass towards his car. "Quatre? Quatre, did you hear me?"

No answer.

"Quatre? Speak to me, Quatre!" //NO!//

Trowa ran the last few steps to the softer foliage beside the jeep, and slipped Quatre off his shoulders as gently as possible. "Don't do this to me Quatre, I've come to far and I've surrendered too much to lose you now…" Trowa wasn't even sure if Quatre could hear him wherever his consciousness was at that moment, but he didn't know what else to say.

He was still shirtless, and Trowa frantically pulled off his long coat and wrapped it around Quatre like a blanket. He leant down, listening for the welcoming sound of breathing, only to find none. A desperate tear rolled down his cheek, and he quickly parted Quatre's lips with one hand.

//This isn't the way I wanted our first real kiss to be…// he thought as he lowered his lips to those of his angel, gently breathing oxygen into his lungs.

He listened again.

Still nothing.

"Please Quatre, please, please, please, please…" he murmured over and over again as he lowered his lips again, inhaling deeply and once again filling Quatre's torso with much needed oxygen.

There was a cough. Trowa pulled back to allow Quatre to sit up, hacking repeatedly and gasping to get air to his every cell as quickly as possible. He noticed that more tears were flowing down his own cheeks, feeling warm against his cool flesh.

Quatre stared at him for a moment, a flicker of recognition appearing for a moment before vanishing into the glazed sapphire depths of his eyes once more. "I… I…" he murmured, his head nodding forward as sleep threatened to grab him once again.

Fortunately, Trowa's arms did instead, lightly shaking him. "You have to stay awake with me, Quatre. Stay with me. Stay awake. I've got to get you home…"

***

Read and review please!


	2. Chapter 2

The Heat Between Me and You

By The 41st Maguanac aka Galatea

Disclaimer: See Previous.

Author's Note: Apologies for any lack of continuity due to editing out the lemon section. As I said at the beginning of part 1, the full version of this story is available on my website at:

http://www.angelfire.com/anime4/chez_galatea

***

Trowa eased the drowsy blond into his arms and into the passenger seat of the jeep he had driven to get there. It was only 15 minutes back to the caravan site, but he hoped it wouldn't be too long. He would get Quatre to drink water before he slept, then he would…

Trowa's thoughts were interrupted as he realised that the blond was no longer silent, but actually trying to hold a conversation with him.

"I dizzn't mean to ge /hic/ get so drunk," he said, pulling Trowa's coat more tightly around him.

"Just relax, little one. We'll be home soon," Trowa said, a small affectionate smile appearing on his lips.

"Tro-waz gonna be real /hic/ real mad when he findz ot," the blond continued to murmur.

//My God, he has no idea who I am,// thought Trowa as he turned another corner on the winding path through the woods. Still, he wanted to keep Quatre from sleeping, and maybe this was the best way. A horrible image of Quatre choking to death in his sleep flashed through his mind for a moment, and he asked, "Who's this Trowa guy anyway?"

"He'z thiz /hic/ thiz guy I know. I… I luv 'im, but he /hic/ he hates me."

Trowa was astonished by this response. Why did Quatre think that he hated him? How could he think that after… after everything they'd been through? "What makes you say that?" he asked.

"I… I tol' him that I /hic/ I luv him today, bu' he left me… and I foun' this magic /hic/ magi' drink tha' made all m-my problems go a /hic/ away…"

Trowa realised that Quatre was crying again, innocent tears being absorbed by the material of his thick coat. //It doesn't stop the tears though, does it?// Trowa thought. //Nothing can stop the tears. No magic drink can cure a broken heart… and I broke it. Lord have mercy on my immortal soul and condemn me now before I cause him any more pain.//

Trowa noticed that the tears had stopped and that those beautiful blue eyes were gazing at him again. He glanced over for a moment, keeping one eye on the road. "Are you all right?"

"I… jus' wan'ed someone to /hic/ luv me…"

Trowa smiled a little. "I love you, little one."

"D-do ya reeeeally?"

Trowa nodded, turning his full attention back to the road.

"Wil' you make luv to me?"

There was a sudden screech of brakes as the jeep skidded to a halt, teetering on the edge of the roadside ditch. Trowa gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring out ahead of him. //I won't look at him. I can't look at him. If I do, I don't know where it will all stop. I care about him too much to let that happen.//

"Whass wrong?" came the gentle slurred voice from beside him.

"Quatre I… I… I can't."

He stole another look at Quatre to see that those pretty sapphire eyes were brimming over with tears again. "B-b-but why?"

Trowa leant against the steering wheel, resting his head on it. "Because you're drunk, Quatre."

"But you sai' you luv'd me! I don' /hic/ I don' ask fo' you to stay with me, jus' take me, please? You don' have to tell the truth, jus' make luv with me. Can' you jus' pre /hic/ pretend? I know that we don' know eachoth'r too well /hic/ I jus'… I jus'…" Quatre let out a choked sob that shook Trowa right to core. He couldn't bear this. He couldn't stay here, because he didn't trust himself. He didn't trust his own body.

Trowa flung the car door open and stepped out on to the badly laid road. His head was spinning, and he needed some air. He needed time to think.

//In that car,// he thought, //is the one person I love… more than anyone else. If I don't take this chance now, I may never get it again… but he doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't even think I'm Trowa. What would he do in the morning if he woke up and remembered? Would he even know it was me that he'd… Oh God I'm confused…//

There was a heavy clunk from the other side of the jeep as Quatre climbed out on to the roadside, Trowa's coat still wrapped tightly around him. Using the car as support, he stumbled over to Trowa.

"I'm sorr'," he murmured. "I… I dizguzt you, and I'm sorry…"

A finger was placed gently on his cool lips, and Trowa shook his head. "No, Quatre, you don't disgust me. I love you Quatre, and one day I will make love to you, I promise." Trowa leant down and captured Quatre's soft lips with his own warmer ones. The kiss was long, but Trowa broke no boundaries, in fear of where his own body would take him if he did. He finally pulled away, and Quatre raised a finger to his own trembling lips.

"You… you kissed me."

Trowa nodded.

Quatre leaned forward to him, and beckoned him closer. "Can I tell you a sec /hic/ secret?"

Trowa lowered his head a little so Quatre could whisper in his ear, the warm breath sending tingling sensations through all his senses. "Go ahead," he murmured.

"You hav' a reeeeeeeeal perdy mouth," said Quatre with a giggle, as he lost his balance and fell forward. Trowa's arms gripped him before he hit the pavement, but it was not enough to save his suede shoes from the torrent of vomit that suddenly emerged the mouth of his loved one.

Trowa raised a hand and gently stroked Quatre's hair as the blond emptied his body of the vile liquor which he had spent the whole evening ingesting. He reached in his pocket and passed Quatre a Kleenex tissue to mop up his mouth and tears with, before helping him to climb back into the car for the remainder of the journey home.

***

Quatre was half-asleep by the time Trowa finally got him back to the campsite. Duo was still up and waiting for them, and gave Trowa a silent nod as he climbed his way into his caravan, before returning across the campsite to his own lodgings with Heero.

Inside his own caravan, Trowa was doing his best to make sure that Quatre was comfortable and awake while he ran around trying to find a glass of water for him. This was a lot more difficult than it had seemed when he had been plotting it on the drive back. The more comfortable Quatre was, the more easily he fell into a doze, meaning that Trowa could not manage to get across the room without Quatre falling over sideways.

After three failed attempts to get Quatre leaned safely against something, Trowa gave it up as a bad idea. On the third time, Quatre had managed to bang his head on the bedside table when he slipped, and Trowa was not exactly keen on giving him matching bruises to find when he woke up. There was only one thing for it; Quatre would have to come with him.

"Quatre?" he asked, quite loudly, shaking him by the shoulder.

"Jus' lemme sleep," whined Quatre without opening his eyes. "It duzzn't matter…"

"Quatre, you are gonna have one Hell of a hangover in the morning if you don't drink some water before you go to sleep. Now come on. Can you walk?"

"Sur' I can," whined Quatre as he pulled himself to a standing position then almost fell face-first on to the carpet.

Trowa shook his head despairingly, wrapping his arms securely around Quatre as he helped him to walk. "Now, take it steady. Just one step at a time."

***

"They're back."

"How is he?"

"Oh, you know Quatre. He'll be back on his feet with a couple of aspirin."

"I was talking about Trowa."

Duo glanced over at Heero, who was still finishing a document he had been working on for most of the afternoon. "Trowa?"

Heero turned in his seat and gave Duo a hard glare. "Yes. I don't mean that he was right, but he's probably a bit confused at the moment."

"But he loves Quatre! It's so obvious that he does!"

"It is not in his best interest for us to interfere. Things take their natural course, and Trowa knows as well as I do that the only way to live a good life is to…"

"I know, I know," interrupted Duo impatiently, "'is to live by your emotions', blah blah blah. Maybe he just needs a little push…?"

"Duo?"

"Yes?" he replied in a small voice.

"Leave it," said Heero in a commanding tone, as though Duo was a dog he had just caught peeing in his slippers. "You can never leave things well enough alone, can you?"

Duo pouted and shook his head. "I can't help it! I can't stop thinking about it, I need to help them."

"Duo. Come here."

Duo slowly stood up and walked the few paces from his perch on the bed to where Heero was sitting by the desk. In one fluid motion, Heero hauled Duo on to him, so he sat astride his lap. "Yes, Hee-chan?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"I'll give you something else to think about, okay?" said Heero, cracking one of his rare smiles.

"'Kay," replied Duo with a grin, relaxing into the gentle caresses and warm mouth of his lover.

***

The scene in the little caravan kitchen was something of a humorous one. Quatre was giggling uncontrollably as Trowa tried to keep him upright by pinning him against the sideboard with the use of his own body.

Trowa shuffled around, trying to pull a glass out of the cupboard, without moving so far from Quatre as to let him slip and fall over. All this was proving to be rather difficult, and it was by no means being made any easier by Quatre's insistence upon constantly shifting his hips. Trowa was trying his best to do the right thing, but every time Quatre moved against him, he had to suppress to urge to start tearing his Goddamn clothes off and taking him on the linoleum floor.

"That tickles!" giggled Quatre as Trowa pushed gently against him in order to close the cupboard door.

//You have no idea,// thought Trowa to himself as he gently eased Quatre over to the sink in order to fill the glass. To his astonishment, Quatre had started babbling on about him again, as though he was someone else completely. Did he really still not recognise him? He seemed to have lost some of his slur at any rate.

"… And then there was the time we wen' up to the lake, and, and we held hands a little while we looked up at the stars…"

//I remember, Quatre.//

"… And it was so pretty. I don' think he noticed when I slipped my han' into his, but it was nice jus' the same…"

//I did notice. How could I have been so blind?//

Quatre shifted as Trowa moved to turn the tap on, the friction against him inducing the telltale sign of heat in his groin, which could only lead to one thing. He closed his eyes as he let the water fill the glass and spill over on to his fingers, the icy stream helping cool the fire within him somewhat.

He passed the glass to Quatre, who sipped away at it happily enough. Trowa almost felt a pang of jealousy towards the glass, his own lips longing for the attention that it was getting, despite the knowledge that it would be wrong right now.

"Okay?" he asked.

Quatre nodded as he drained the rest of the water, and watched as Trowa filled it again. "Keep drinking, unless you want a killer headache tomorrow."

"I like you, you're warm," said Quatre dozily as he started to drink his second glass, leaning back quite heavily against Trowa as he pinned him carefully to prevent him falling over.

"Uhhh…" Trowa stifled a moan as the blond accidentally rubbed against his aching erection through his clothes. //Please tell me he hasn't noticed…// thought Trowa desperately, not daring to look directly at Quatre as the blond turned to face him.

"Whassat?"

Trowa's breath froze in his throat. "What?"

A pair of aquamarine coloured eyes probed the depths of his soul carefully. He seemed more mesmerised by something else though…

"You have his eyes…" said Quatre slowly, raising his hand to rest it on Trowa's cheek. "Trowa has the most beautiful eyes…"

Trowa gently placed his hand over the softer one lightly caressing his face and smiled. "You have the most beautiful eyes."

"Thank you…" murmured Quatre as he wrapped his arms around Trowa's back, linking them and burying his face in his chest. Trowa smiled a little. It was the most angelic sight he had ever witnessed.

"You don't need to thank me, Quatre. I need to thank you. I need to thank you for everything you've done for me over the years. All those times when you tried to get close to me, and I just shoved you away as if I didn't care… but I did care. I didn't even realise it at the time, but I was feeling so much more for anyone than ever before. I had no parents… no friends… just a set of regulations to follow, and someone else's name. How could I hope to find you, when I hadn't even found myself? But that's all changed now. I feel like I can trust someone. I'd like to learn to love someone, the way you love people Quatre. While people like you exist, there's hope for people like me… I… I love you, Quatre. I love you."

Trowa paused briefly to inhale the scent from his loved ones hair, letting a tear of his own fall into the soft golden locks. "Quatre…?" 

Trowa was answered only by the soft snores of the wounded dove he held so closely in his arms. He kissed the top of his head, easing the glass from his hand, and lifting him with care, doing his best not to disturb him.

He walked back to his caravan as quickly as possible. Quatre had a caravan elsewhere he knew, but the thought of being parted from that soft, warm being for more than a minute was already beginning to claw at his soul, and instead he carefully undressed first Quatre, then himself down to just boxers, and crawled beneath his heap of blankets on his little circus bed.

With Quatre's back pressed securely against his chest, and his face buried in the back of his neck, Trowa was finally able to breath a sigh of contentment, and eventually slipped into sleep's warm embrace.

***

The following morning dawned bright and clear. The sun had not long tentatively peeped its head over the horizon when the chill in the morning air awoke Quatre from the protective cushion of sleep which had held him for the past few hours.

The first thought that registered was a heavy pain in his head, as though someone had balanced an invisible brick on top of his brow. It was a thick, heavy pain, which made his head seem to weigh about 100 kilograms more than usual. He opened one extremely bleary eye, blinking hard, unwilling to pull his arms out from under the covers as a wide window was letting a very nippy breeze into the caravan.

All of the circus caravans were basically the same. They were rather small, only about 2 metres in height, and 7 or so metres in length. The decorator had obviously been very unimaginative, as they were all painted in 'Magnolia' and the floor was a dull blue carpet. Quatre opened his other eye, beginning to take in the familiarities of the room. It all felt like a dream, and the aching in his head was certainly not helping.

He had gone to a bar… yes, he was sure of that much. He could remember why he'd gone to the bar, but for the sake of his headache, decided not to think about that too much for the time being… until he'd got some aspirin at least.

Still, there was one thing missing from his memory… possibly the most important part in fact. How had he got home from the bar? There were flickers of memories running around his mind. He remembered the barwoman… there was a whole lot of alcohol, his headache was telling him that much. He remembered people… and music.

//And a pair of green eyes as bright as…//

"Trowa…" Quatre whispered the word to himself reverently, barely enough breath passing his lips to make the word audible. He could remember Trowa. He was the only one he knew with eyes like that, like fireflies trapped behind glass. Or was his memory so screwed up that he had wished he were with Trowa? He groaned to himself, falling into a pool of self-pity for a moment as scraps of memories from the night before flitted teasingly through his mind.

//I love you, little one.//

Had Trowa really said those words to him? It was Trowa's face that coloured his dreams, but he couldn't be sure. He had wanted him so much for so long that every dream he had often came out that way. Sometimes they seemed so real that he actually believed that Trowa was still in bed with him when he woke up the following morning, his soft breath on the back of his neck. Then he'd roll over, and it would just be cold reality, reminding him that he was a stupid fool.

//But not today,// he thought. //Today I'll lie here on my side, staring at these white washed walls, feeling that same warm breath, because I don't have anything else. These strands of dreams I have left are all I have to get me through another day, and for now… that's all I have.//

And yet, no other dream had ever been so vivid as this. He could almost have sworn that beneath the bedclothes, a pair of warm and muscular arms was wrapped around his little frame, someone else's soft hair pressing against the nape of his neck. He tried to move, but found the ghostly arms he imagined were holding him very firmly. A cold wave of panic passed over him.

//It can't be Trowa,// he thought, his eyes beginning to dart helplessly across the scene directly in front of him. He couldn't turn enough to see who was behind him, but it was definitely _someone_. The thought of what he might have done was so staggering that he felt sick. Had he…? Could he have met another man at the bar and…? He knew how heartbroken he'd felt…

_//Wil' you make luv to me?//_

//Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit_shit_,// he thought desperately, there HAD been someone! And they were there now, in his bed!! What would Trowa say if he walked in right now? Actually, knowing Trowa, he'd probably say nothing, but Quatre didn't even _know_ this guy!

Quatre's eyes finally alighted on half a leftover glass of water, which had been left on the bedside table. He had a feeling that the guy behind him was very strong, so the water would give him time to run for the door and yell for help if necessary.

Carefully as he possibly could, Quatre eased his arm upwards and out of the warm embrace with a sigh. Whatever he was like as a person, the young man had a wonderful smell, dark and husky, the smell of something faintly familiar clung to him, though Quatre couldn't put his finger on what. His hand alighted on the glass, wrapping his fingers around it, getting used to the cool pressure against his warmer hand.

The figure behind him stirred in his sleep, and Quatre froze. The sleeping man murmured something incoherent, snuggling closer against Quatre's back, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades before falling back into a doze again. Quatre felt a pang of guilt as he realised that he was enjoying this a little too much. This was the kind of closeness he had always dreamt of with… //Oh, shut up. Just… shut up.//

The thought of Trowa crossing his mind again was enough to spur Quatre into gripping the glass more tightly. He could feel his fear winding up every muscle in his body, waiting for the spring when he'd fire himself across the room. Hoping for the best, Quatre splashed the glass of freezing water on to the head of the person behind him.

As it turned out, perhaps Quatre was not as good a strategist as he'd liked to believe…

Instead of releasing him and spluttering in the sudden indoor rainstorm, the figure stirred instantly, every muscle in his body tensing as his arm gripped Quatre tightly, and he felt himself being hauled backwards off the bed. Something banged to his left, but he couldn't turn to see what it was, being held in position too tightly. There was the click of a safety catch… then for a moment, nothing.

***

Trowa had been woken by a number of different things over the last 18 years of his life, but he had to admit that having something freezing cold slopped over his face at 7.30 in the morning was not one of them.

He had been having a wonderful dream too. He had been sailing through a giant blue sea, floating on a giant version of his circus mask. Way in the distance, he could see a little golden island where the sun was shining. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he had to get there. The storm would be over.

Of course, generally in dreams with storms, you didn't actually get wet.

Trowa had been trained to be one of the fastest of the Gundam pilots. He was faster than Heero, and practically as strong, and he knew that attacks during sleeping were common, almost cliché to the pilots. They had been victim to more assassination attempts than he could count.

In barely a second, the memories of the night before were ordered, and he knew that there was more than one person he had to save. Quatre was right there next to him, he could feel him, and he'd be damned if he was going to let anything happen to him. Quickly as possible, he gripped Quatre tightly and sprung off the back of the bed, his hand reaching to the little bedside table to scoop up the revolver he always kept there. He flicked off the catch, Quatre held to his side so as to block him if the intruder had a weapon, his body ready, and his eyes scanning meticulously…

***

//Oh my God, he's got a gun…// thought Quatre in terror, as he found himself dangling with his feet a couple of inches off the ground. Whoever this guy was, he was TALL.

Trowa continued glancing around the room, still unable to find his target. His eyes alighted on the empty glass of water on the bed, and the droplets which were gently trickling down his face, and on the…

…elbow that caught him in the stomach rather unexpectedly, which had Quatre on the other end of it. He doubled over, momentarily winded, and the blond flew at him, knocking them both to the ground. The revolver skidded out of reach, and Trowa found himself being attacked by the irate little Arabian.

This little scene was not a million miles away from one that Trowa had dreamt up, he realised. Two hot writhing bodies on the floor of a hotel, a beach, a lab, a forest, it didn't matter. No matter where it was, it always ended too quickly. In fear of what his body would do if he didn't control it, Trowa gripped Quatre's wrists, one in each hand, rolling them both over and pinning Quatre to the ground beneath him.

Quatre fought blindly, closing his eyes and scratching at any flesh that came within his reach. He may not have been the strongest pilot, but he sure as Hell wasn't going down without a fight. The guy was strong though, far stronger than he was, and in one fluid motion he was lying on his back, his arms pinned above his head. Panic overwhelming him, he did the last thing he knew how…

"Somebody HELP M-…" A hand blurred across his vision and silenced his mouth. His eyes sprung upon, and fixed upon a pair of blazing green ones mere inches above him.

//Trowa!//

//Quatre…//

They lay like this for a few moments, Trowa's hand still pressed over Quatre's mouth, though a lot more softly now. Quatre no longer struggled, and lay with his chest heaving in oxygen after his early morning battle, the roots of his headache trying to ease into his brain once more as if he wouldn't notice.

"… I'm sorry, Quatre."

Trowa was the first to speak, his voice a little croaky considering it was the first time he'd used it since he'd been awoken so rudely. He removed his hand from Quatre's mouth, moving gently to one side so as to give Quatre some room to sit up.

"What for?" said Quatre as he gently sat up, rubbing his sore head.

"For lying to you yesterday." Trowa could feel Quatre's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head, but he daren't look at him. He saw no reason why Quatre should even be in the same room as him, considering what he'd said.

"Lying to me?"

"Yes. I lied when I acted like I didn't care about you. I lied when I acted like I didn't want you to kiss me. Like I didn't want to kiss you, when all I can think about most of the time is all the things that I long to do to you… I'm sorry Quatre. You don't have to say anything, I just felt you should know."

There was a long silence, more powerful than any Trowa has known before. Quatre hadn't moved, his eyes still watching Trowa with unyielding intensity. Unable to take the silence with which he was usually so comfortable, Trowa said, "You can go if you want to."

"… Do I have to?"

Trowa finally looked over at the honest face beside him. Quatre was actually smiling at him! He couldn't believe it! After all that, Quatre actually wanted to stay with him! "Y-you don't hate me?"

Quatre laughed and shook his head, his blonde bangs scattering across his forehead in a slightly dishevelled way. "Of course not! I just… I can't believe it… that you… you feel the same. I never thought… I was never good enough…"

Trowa raised his hand to Quatre's lips again to still them. "You are too good for me, little one. My little angel…"

The blond giggled, cutting Trowa off. "You'd better stop right there, Trowa Barton, before my ego gets any bigger!"

Trowa laughed now too, the idea of Quatre having anything that could be called an ego being too funny to even consider. Quatre finished his giggling, listening to Trowa for a moment, just enjoying his smiling face like a piece of artwork. "I really made a fool of myself last night, huh Trowa?"

Trowa nodded his head a little. "Don't worry little one, I won't tell the others about the little dancing incident.

Quatre's jaw dropped and he looked aghast. "I danced?? In front of a bunch of strangers??"

//Oops,// thought Trowa, having previously believed that Quatre had already remembered all this. "Well… yes."

Quatre eyed him, his eyebrow raised. "Trowa, if I did anything last night, I want you to tell me what. I don't want this coming back to haunt me later. My headache's already bad enough as it is."

Quatre's expression was so severe that Trowa found himself speaking without his brain intervening, "Well, you were kind of… dancing on the…"

"On the _what_, Trowa?"

"W-well you were very upset, and you'd kind of had a lot of…"

"_Trowa_!"

"On the bar."

Quatre's eyes widened and he rubbed his head. "Oh my…"

"…without your shirt on."

Trowa hadn't believed it was possible for anyone's eyes to get as big as Quatre's did at that moment. He stared out ahead of him, looking thoroughly mortified. "I-I don't believe it…" he said. He then turned back to Trowa. "And you watched me as I made a complete fool of myself?" Quatre's tone wasn't exactly angry, more curious, but it made Trowa squirm uncomfortably as he was reminded of all the lustful thoughts that had crossed his mind as he watched Quatre make sweet love with the smoky air around him.

"… Yes, I did. I never meant to hurt you, I just… I couldn't tear my eyes away. You were… incredible."

Quatre felt a blush creep into his cheeks, softly mumbling his thanks to the compliment before falling silent. A cheeky smile crept on to his lips, and he eventually said, "Well, maybe if you're really lucky, you'll get to see me dance again some day."

"I'd much rather hear you sing for me."

Quatre looked up to see Trowa's eyes gazing at him, a cool glaze shadowing them. "I really don't know how to si…" He raised a hand gently to his cheek as he realised that Trowa was not implying that he sing in the stricter sense of the word.

//Nice one Trowa,// he thought, chiding himself. "Sorry Quatre, I just…" This time, not a hand but a pair of lips stopped his mouth from the apology he was trying to make. They were soft and supple, and the moment he met with them he felt as though he were floating several feet in the air. His tongue lightly teased Quatre's teeth, quietly requesting access, which Quatre gave in a heartbeat. Trowa gently lifted his hands, pulling Quatre's little form towards his own to further deepen the kiss, trying to drown himself in the depths of that sweet mouth.

***

Trowa carefully eased himself on to the bed, lying on his back, feeling his body adopt its normal rhythm again. Quatre rolled on to his side, draping one arm across Trowa's chest, enjoying the closeness they now shared.

"I do love you, Trowa. I really do."

"And I love you, my little dove."

"You know what?"

"Yes, little one?"

"… I think my headache's gone."

And in the early morning light, the lovers dissolved into giggles once again.

~Owari~


End file.
